


Perfect Rhyme

by ExceedinglyRegular (DrakeRamorayIII)



Series: Flashbacks and Echoes (Main Story) [3]
Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 20:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakeRamorayIII/pseuds/ExceedinglyRegular
Summary: (Sequel to'The Cruelest Way')Steven’s life is going great. He’s living it up in New York (his favorite city), working as a video producer for one of the largest media companies on the planet (big things coming). Oh, and he’s also engaged… finally proposed to his girlfriend (she said yes). What more could a man ask for?There’s just the issue of this unsettling feeling in his heart that simply won’t ever go away.or, the one where Steven realizes he’s been chasing the wrong things.





	1. Sure

**Author's Note:**

> At last, the actual sequel to ['The Cruelest Way'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275490/). Now you get to see how it all goes down from Steven's point of view.

# Chapter 1 - Sure

Back to the grind.

Steven steps through the sliding glass doors into the cool air-conditioned lobby of his office building. The receptionist greets him with a wide smile, he had been surprised by how quickly she committed him to memory considering there are thousands of people who worked here. It only took her less than twenty-four hours.

The giant words behind the front desk are glowing bright, 'Brand New Press' it says. Steven can't help but feel that bit of pride shoot through him. This is one of the largest media companies around, larger than BuzzFeed, and home of the most influential publishing houses too. They have an entire building to themselves, which is a monumental achievement in a densely packed city like New York. The building itself is nothing to sneeze at either.

Although his work is hardly any different from when he was at BuzzFeed, the professional air of it all is rather intimidating. This is a big step for his career but he partly wishes that he didn't have to leave his friends behind for it. Everything was so much easier with Andrew around.

Even if Andrew didn't actually contribute to whatever project Steven was involved in, he was moral support. Which is why Steven was beyond elated when Andrew and Adam had came to visit earlier this week, he can still feel remnants of their presence around him and it helped ground him.

They left on a flight back to LA yesterday morning, Steven's heart ached as he watched them board the plane. He can't begin to describe how much he is going to miss them... especially Andrew. 

Steven makes his way to the elevator bay and punches in '13' on one of the keypads. The tinny speaker beeps to grab his attention, flashing the letter 'E' in red on the display. Sighing, Steven walks all the way over to said elevator on the far end, which already has its doors open, waiting for him.

He steps in and watch the doors close, and in the silence his mind wanders back to the conversation he had with Andrew two days ago.

They were sitting in Steven's living room, Andrew had poured his heart out, detailing just how badly he's missed him. Steven had a hard time then (and even now) trying to imagine Andrew shedding tears over his move, he never knew it would affect him that badly, if he did...

Andrew said that Steven is his closest friend and that no one else can even compare, and if Steven's being honest? He can say the exact same about Andrew. It's not like he didn't have close friends, he did but what the two of them had- _**have**_ is something special. 

Andrew also briefly mentioned his childhood and even though he didn't say much, it was more than enough for Steven to understand. He can make friends, no problem, he just isn't able to keep them. But that changes now. Steven is making sure of it.

_No matter how far away you are, we will always remain close... I promise you that._

His own voice echoes in his mind. Steven readjusts the straps of his backpack and straightens his posture, physically announcing to the world that he is dead set on keeping his word.

The lift stops and the doors slide open. The office lights are already on, not a huge surprise. Although Steven always reports to work early, he's never the first.

As he approaches his assigned desk, he notices that his deskmate, Laurel, is already there. Which is, on the other hand, an unusual sight to say the least. Her head snaps up when she sees him coming and reaches to the side to pick something up.

She presents, with both hands and a smile, a paper takeout box to Steven. He accepts it with a smile in return but his eyebrows quirk up in confusion.

"Marcus bought breakfast for everyone on the team, that's your share." Laurel explains simply. That's unexpected, it's not like he thinks his boss is a bad person or anything... Steven just didn't peg him for the type to treat his staff to a meal. They haven't hit any significant milestones, Steven doesn't think, so Marcus is probably just in a good mood.

"Thank you." Steven settles down at his seat and cautiously opens the box. It's a perfectly mundane scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Can't possibly be any good but Steven is taken aback when he bites into the eggs. "Mmm... this is good. Oh shoot, wait." Steven fumbles at his pocket, trying to fish his phone out. When he finally succeeds, he quickly snaps a picture of the food.

Laurel laughs a little at this and Steven feels himself blushing. He opens up a new app he downloaded yesterday and tacks on a billion different stickers but he can't settle on a filter. He flicks back and forth between two of them, still undecided.

He shows his phone to his coworker, trying to get her opinion but instead she just laughs again.

"What's with all the cute little stickers? Is this going to a special someone?" Laurel wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"W-what? No! Just... just my best friend." Steven scowls, trying to make it clear that he's serious about it. 

"Just?" Laurel questions disbelievingly. Steven death-stares at her and she puts her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay... no need to get testy."

Steven finally settled on a filter and pondered on what text to include. Cheesy should be a safe option.

'Wakey Wakey!'  
'Eggs and Bakey!' 

Admiring the photo, Steven actually snorted at how ridiculously kiddy the entire thing is. But it doesn't stop him from hitting the send button. He feels Laurel's gaze on him but chooses to ignore it, opting to focus on finishing his breakfast.

Before he knows it, the box is empty and Steven surprises himself with how badly he wanted another bite. He makes a mental note to ask Marcus where he got it.

Steven glances over at his still and unlit phone, nervously wondering why Andrew hasn't answered, it's not like he's a quick replier so this is nothing out of the ordinary. Then Steven realizes several beats late that the sun isn't even up yet in LA, even here there's barely any light outside. Andrew's probably still asleep.

Oh well, better focus on work. Steven switches on his computer and begins doing his research for a new video he's pitching: 'The Most Romantic Food Spots in the USA'. Yeah, it's nothing groundbreaking but he thought it would be better to start off with the safer concepts, before he starts throwing all his wacky ideas at the wall to see what sticks.

Steven knows that he needs to put all his attention on this so he can finish it quickly. He plans on pitching it tomorrow and while the general outline is there, he needs to work out all details to really sell it. He REALLY needs to focus. Despite his commitment to his work, Steven can't stop checking his phone every other minute. And evidently, his deskmate noticed.

"You sure you're sure? 'Cause from where I'm standing this looks a lot like something more." Laurel doesn't appear to know when to stop.

That is a preposterous statement, completely outrageous. Andrew is simply Steven's best friend, nothing more. That is the extent of it. Steven's not gay and neither is Andrew, and even if Andrew were (which Steven has absolutely no issues with), Steven isn't. It's like what Shane said, there's absolutely nothing wrong with two straight guys enjoying each other's company. It's called a friendship, genius.

Steven withholds an eye-roll, he's not having this conversation.

"I'm sure," Steven says with such finality that Laurel might actually get the message. She looks like she has more remarks to make but doesn't. Steven thinks he finally got through to her but he then follows her distracted gaze and realizes the real reason why.

Here comes Mr. Bossman himself, blue shirt, grey suit, black hair slicked back. He looks like every supervisor stereotype ever. Luckily for him, the style works just fine on him.

"How was the breakfast?" Marcus asks in his usual booming voice. The sound actually startles Steven a large bit but he manages to not stutter when he replies.

"Really good! Where'd you get it?" Steven tries to maintain eye contact without being weird, and keeps shifting his gaze between the tip of his boss's left ear and the bizarre abstract artwork hanging behind him.

"Sherman's, on the fifth," He answers happily before diving into talking about some upcoming works.

Marcus is a good boss, objective and professional (most of the time) yet still very approachable. He does have his moments of rage from time to time but they are more comical than scary.

Like that time when his computer crashed in the middle of a presentation. The number of expletives he threw at the machine is only outmatched by the number of times he gave it the finger. Steven had a hard time holding back his laughter but he didn't want to start off his new job on the wrong foot, so he kept quiet.

"Steven! Are you expecting a call?" Marcus suddenly asks. His tone hints towards irritation but the shit-eating grin on his face states otherwise. "You're eyeing your phone like you're about to pounce on it."

Laurel giggles and Steven's gaping at his boss like a fish out of water, he thought he was being discrete but apparently not. Steven's about to apologize but unfortunately, Laurel beats him to the buzzer.

"Steven is in lo-ove..." She announces in a sing-song voice.

Immediately, everyone within earshot is shooting daggers at her with their eyes. She appear to have noticed her own error too as a horrified look creeps upon her. Marcus's face lights up at that little statement of hers, and Steven's certain that the entire office is readying to vacate the premises at the first given opportunity.

Oh boy, here we go...

If there's one thing you should never do in front of Marcus, is to bring up 'dating' or 'love' or 'marriage' because once he starts talking about his wonderful husband and the magic of romance... he absolutely will _**not**_ shut up.

"Oh my god! Is he? Aww... that's so adorable! Our little Stevie boy is on his way to-" Luckily for everyone, his phone starts ringing mid-sentence, interrupting whatever long spiel he was about to go on. Marcus whips his phone out of his back pocket and his impossibly wide face-splitting smile somehow grows even larger. "Speaking of love..." He answers the call and walks off towards his office.

There is a collective sigh of relief and Marcus's secretary emerges from her hiding spot behind the fake plants.

"Y'all are welcome, by the way." She has her arms crossed and is looking way too pleased with herself. "I messaged Michael... for anyone who's wondering."

Literally nobody was, Steven thinks. Not that he will say it out loud, he is grateful for what she did. With the crisis averted, everyone returns to their rightful battle-stations.

Steven runs a hand through his hair, and glares over at the perpetrator. Laurel at least has the decency to look apologetic.

"Sorry... I'll keep my mouth shut from now on."

"You better."

An abrupt light shining from the edge of Steven's peripheral vision gets his attention. It's his phone! He quickly reaches to pick it up, and there it is. Andrew replied. Steven can feel his mood rapidly lifting.

* * *

'That looks good'  
'Did you make it?'

'No my boss bought it'  
'It's in a takeout box lol' 

'Couldn't tell with all the stickers in the way'

'Haha' 

'Was that sarcasm?'

'What do you think?' 

'I think it was'

'Then it is' 

* * *

Steven's beaming so intensely his cheeks are starting to ache but he doesn't care. He missed this. They haven't been texting each other for over a month, which sounds way more depressing than it actually is. They were just busy, that's all... That and the fact that they grew distant after Steven announced his move, but he's just gonna gloss over that little bit of information for now. He's just happy things are back to normal.

_Even though they aren't._

* * *

'Meanwhile I'm stuck with this'  
[Photo of a bowl of plain whole-grain cereal]

'EWW' 

'It's not that bad'  
'Good for you actually'

'Hey I do eat healthy you know'  
'Sometimes' 

'Oh really?'  
'I didn't think you had it in you'

'Shut up Ilncykj' 

'You spelt my name wrong'

'It was autocorrect' 

'That's... even worse'

':P' 

* * *

Alrighty, it's time to go back to finishing this pitch. Steven knows, he just _knows_ , that Laurel is giving him the side-eye after the text exchange that just happened. But Steven is more than happy to completely ignore her. She's wrong and that's that.

As the rest of the morning slowly slinks away, Steven has somehow devolved from kinda working on his stuff to simply collecting funny cat pictures to send to Andrew, and then again to watching funny cat videos that he intends to forward to Andrew later.

Somewhere between the fifteenth and sixteenth video, Steven has a moment of clarity and discovers how off track he has gotten. He quickly saves the document with all the links and closes it, along with any browser tabs not related to work.

What he doesn't discover is that it's already lunchtime and that most of everyone else has since left. At least not until he notices someone standing nearby staring at him. Steven throws a quick glance in that direction, it's one of the interns.

"Can I help you?" Steven asks carefully, worried that he might scare him off. The poor soul looks like a tiny lost woodland creature, his eyes darting around before settling on burning a hole into the floor.

"I t-think you dropped this...?" He holds out a shiny blue thumb drive that Steven immediately recognize as the one he thought he had lost forever.

"Oh, I did! Thank you!" Steven reaches out to take the drive, smiling widely with a grateful nod of his head. He expected that to be all but the intern is still standing there as if he has something else to say, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair and nervously scratching the back of his neck.

Having struggled socially for most of his life, Steven knows that's better to be patient than to rush the person. And so he waits. The intern takes a slow, heavy breath, his chest rising and falling with resolute intention. It appears he finally got his nerves together.

"Do you... m-maybe wanna-" Before he can complete his sentence however, a deep and loud voice calls out from a mere two desks away.

"Steven! Lunch?" Ah yes, Liam. One of the senior producers. Though they haven't even worked together on anything, he has already taken a liking to Steven, frequently praising the work he did at BuzzFeed. Liam's grinning and waving, and Steven feels himself wave back.

"Sure, let me just-" Steven turns back and... the intern's gone, like a spectral visitor who may or may not have existed in the first place. If it weren't for the thumb drive lying on his desk, Steven might have thought he imagined the entire thing. He shakes his head, partly out of confusion and partly to clear his mind.

"Let's go."

They end up in some run-of-the-mill burger place. The decor is kinda nice, with the partially exposed brick walls and framed hipster photos. The food is decent but nothing to write home about. Thought Steven guesses that after all his food adventures, he's probably not so easily impressed anymore.

Steven had sent another photo to Andrew but haven't gotten any response yet. He's getting anxious and Liam quickly picked up on it.

"What's up, mate? You look like you're ready to bolt." Liam chuckles nervously, unsure if he should be serious or joking. Steven makes it easy for him.

"Just worried about my friend, he's having a tough time..." Steven doesn't know what it is with Liam that makes him feel more comfortable about opening up. But even then he keeps details to a minimum, staying as vague as possible. "It's even tougher 'cause he's on the other end of the country."

"Andrew?" Steven's surprised by Liam's question. He didn't think he ever mentioned Andrew in front of his new colleagues. Then again, Liam probably guessed based on what he knows from watching Worth It. The look on Steven's face must be something awful as Liam quickly apologizes. "Sorry, that was... that was overstepping. I didn't mean to assume, I just- Ah...?"

"It's fine." Steven cuts him off, not wanting to drag the conversation on longer than it needs to be. "But keep this to yourself."

"My lips are sealed." Liam makes a zipping motion across his mouth, then promptly unzips it to take a sip of his iced lemonade, only to zip it up once again. His little antic makes Steven laugh, it's not much but did help him feel a little more at ease. "I'll be right back, gotta use the loo."

Mere seconds after Liam leaves the table, Steven's phone vibrates in his pocket. He didn't want to get his hopes up but there it is anyway. Good thing it _is_ a notification with Andrew's name on it, meaning his hopes can live to shatter another day.

* * *

'Nice'  
'Now I'm even hungrier'

'You still haven't ate?'  
'GO!!'  
'Go eat something!' 

'I will in a moment'

* * *

Things like these are why Steven can't stop worrying about Andrew. It's not the big things like that running-out-of-the-store or even getting into a car accident... but the little things, the ones that can easily escape people's notice. Steven silently wonders if Andrew even eats enough these days. His fingers however, go for a lighter approach.

* * *

'How are you today?' 

'Fine'

'That's good' 

'Yeah'

'?????'  
'What's wrong?'  
'You're texting weird' 

'Nothing'  
'I'm not'

'~~~~~~' 

'I'm serious'  
'Nothing is wrong'

'If you don't tell me I'm asking Adam' 

'Go on ask him'  
'He will tell you that nothing's wrong'

'Fine fine I believe you' 

* * *

He doesn't, but he didn't really want to call Andrew's bluff this time. Fearing that if Andrew found out, it would only serve to upset him further. Steven hates this. He hates having to be so careful with Andrew, even if it's only for this particular topic.

Steven doesn't push any further and the conversation closes without another word. This may be harder than he thought, and it doesn't help that people keep trying to mess with his head. Laurel keeps giving him this look like he's some fool in love. Even before today she had said that he looked like he was 'pining', which is absolutely absurd, he is not 'pining' and most definitely not after Andrew. He just missed his best friend, what's wrong with that?

Liam's been giving him the look too, and Steven prays to all relevant powers that he's not one of them 'shippers'. Yeah, he's seen the comments on YouTube, he knows there are stories out there written where he and Andrew are a couple. It doesn't bother him much, but he draws the line at the very people in front of him who attempt to get them together. That's steering way to close for comfort... they need to stay in their own lanes.

Again, Steven isn't gay. He makes that extremely clear. There's nothing wrong with being gay, Steven just isn't. There's nothing to discuss. He knows how he feels. He's straight and attracted to women and that's the end of it. He is completely secure in his sexuality, to the point where he can proclaim his love for another guy (in a perfectly platonic manner) and not be at all concerned if someone else were to take it the wrong way. Because he knows who he is.

Everyone else is just wrong.


	2. First Glance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an echo chapter. The story will alternate between normal chapters (set in the 'present') and echo chapters (set in the past). The echo chapters will link up the normal chapters with additional context.

# Chapter 2e - First Glance

There's no getting used to this.

California is nothing like Ohio, which is to be expected. The weather is different, the traffic is different, the people are different, the food... you get the point. When Steven pulls into the BuzzFeed parking lot, he's already sweating. Not from the heat, mind you, but from nerves.

Steven can hardly believe he is actually working at BuzzFeed right now. If you had told him even a few months ago that this would be his job, he'd never believe you. Even now, he has trouble believing this is real. It's his third day on the job and he wants nothing more than to prove himself.

He picks up the paper bag from the passenger seat and exits the vehicle, tripping over the uneven terrain and nearly losing his balance. Great start already. 

Smoothing over his little blunder, Steven shuts the door and starts walking away from the car towards the main building. It's a shame he didn't notice that his shoelace got caught between the door and the frame, tethering him to his car. When he reaches the end of the line, the resistance catches him by surprise and this time he actually loses his balance, falling flat on the rough gravel. It takes him a few moments to reorientate himself, his right foot is being hoisted up by his laces like a puppet on strings.

Seething, Steven forcefully yanks his foot but the trapped bit of fabric doesn't budge. He groans at his misfortune and carefully props himself back up to a sitting position, unlocks the door, and frees himself. Now that he's unbound, he gives himself a quick visual inspection. His palms are red and there are several scuff and scratches all over his arms but fortunately, no bleeding. Steven thanks his ancestors for endowing him with literal thick skin.

Then he spots the paper bag that holds his breakfast lying two feet away from where he fell. He jogs over to pick it up. There is a huge tear in the bag but thankfully none of the contents spilled out. Steven folds the paper to cover the giant rip on the front, and makes his way to the building without anymore mishaps.

He's only gotten two steps inside when someone rushes past him like a cold breeze, and runs up the stairs two steps at a time. As the stranger approaches the top landing, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Steven watches as a little keychain falls out and land silently on the carpeted floor. The stranger didn't notice. Steven quickens his own pace to get to the dropped article.

"Hey! You dropped someth-" Steven shouts as he ascends the steps but the stranger didn't seem to have heard him. He picks up the keychain and notices that it has two actual keys attached and a little blue thumb drive. Steven runs the rest of the distance to catch up with the speedy stranger and by the time he's there, he's way out of breath. "Hey..."

The stranger turns around and the whole world slows down. Everything fades into the background as they lock gazes. Steven feels a little lost looking into the stranger's bright piercing-green eyes. The two men stand and stare at each other silently for a few seconds before Steven remembers what brought them into that position.

"You dropped this." Steven is a little too proud of himself for managing to not stutter. The stranger looks down to Steven's extended hand, at the little keychain he's holding out.

"Oh, I did. Thank you..." His voice is deep and gruff, monotonous, deadpan. Steven can't tell if he is being sarcastic or not until he sees the stranger's smile and it's... it's something. Steven feels a tingle in his chest and a chill down his back.

The stranger picks up the keychain in his own hand, fingers lightly grazing Steven's palm as he did so. Steven quickly drops his hand back down to his side, his fingertips twitch with some unknown energy.

Steven nervously gulps, he wants to introduce himself but is kinda scared to. His heart is thumping loud in his chest, hyperactive from a mixture of excitement and anxiousness.

"See you around." And just like that the stranger leaves. Steven can't believe that he actually feels upset over this. Why? He just stands there dumbly rooted to the spot for at least a couple of minutes, trying to process what happened. 

What the hell was that? Steven had no words to explain what he just felt. His brain is short-circuiting upon itself and his heart is on overdrive. Every part of his body is warm from the speed of his blood rushing about.

This is ridiculous, there's nothing special about that brief interaction. Nothing at all. Steven takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Then, just like the stranger did moments before, he turns around and walks off but in the other direction.

Steven passes several desks on his way over to his own, silently wondering if any of them belongs to the mysterious stranger. He's also trying not to look too embarrassed as he crosses paths with some of the other employees here. There's no way that they'd have witnessed his triple fail this morning but that doesn't stop his overthinking brain.

He finally gets to his desk. A safe spot. Sitting next to him is Jen, who is also pretty new. Over the last few days, the two bonded over their newbie status, and Steven is glad he has at least one person in the office he can talk to.

"Oh hey, good morning." Jen waves at him as he sits down. Steven returns with a wave of his own. He mentally psychs himself up, hoping to bring his energy back up to his usual cheery level.

"Morning," Steven replies. He sets his paper bag down on the desk, between their keyboards. Unfolding it, he pulls out one of the bagels, tipping it towards Jen. "I got bagels. Want one?"

"Hell yeah! Thanks." She snatches it out of his hands like she's a squirrel at the park, eagerly chowing down without hesitation. She stops for a moment. "You look flustered..." Crumbs fly out of her mouth as she speaks, Steven flinches but Jen just laughs with a hand over her mouth, keeping the rest of the morsel where it belongs.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Steven chides playfully. He fishes out another bagel for himself. They proceeded to eat in a comfortable silence. When Jen finishes, she simply turns back to her work, her passing statement forgotten.

Throughout the day, Steven can't stop himself from thinking about the stranger. Thinking back to that moment brings about some unusual emotions each time, emotions that Steven has never felt before and thus unable to name. It's all very confusing.

Needless to say, this puts a damper on his productivity. Steven actually considers asking Jen if she can help him sleuth out the identity of the stranger but... she will definitely ask why, and Steven doesn't want to talk about that part.

Guess he'll never know.

Nearing lunchtime, one of the managers (the scary redheaded one) comes over to talk to Jen and Steven takes that as a sign to disappear into the break room. He's certain that the manager's gonna wanna talk to him next and it's not that he wants to outright avoid him, but Steven can't say that he's in the best state of mind right now.

He (not so) stealthily sneaks through the corridors towards the break room, and as his luck would have it, someone exits just as he is walking through the door. Some sort of liquid splashes upwards in between them at the point of collision, and Steven gets a faceful of it. A little gets into his eyes and he braces himself for them to start stinging but nothing happens.

Frazzled, he take a step backwards to give some space to whoever he just ran into and... he slips on a puddle on the floor. Of course.

Fortunately, the traffic accident has better reflexes than Steven, and actually catches his arm before he gets another interview with the floor. When his head stops spinning, Steven looks up at his savior, and maybe it's just the angle but this guy looks like a human lamppost.

"Woah. You okay?" The anthropomorphic Empire State Building looks like he just weathered a thunderstorm but is watching Steven with a decently worried look on his face. Steven thinks he might just die from embarrassment overload. He quickly gets back onto his feet, apologizing profusely.

"Sorry! I'm so, so, so... sorry. I'm rea-" The oversized alien waves his apology off with an air of tranquility that Steven is almost jealous of.

"Don't sweat it, t'was an accident." He turns around and walks back into the break room to refill his now nearly-empty cup. Steven follows him in sheepishly and grabs a paper cup for himself, waiting behind the human-giraffe hybrid. After taking his fill, Yeti-man leaves without another word.

Steven loads his cup up and start taking anxious sips, trying not to think too much about his bad-luck day. Maybe he should go get lunch or something. His mind unhelpfully supplies him with the possibility of him getting run down by a car on the street while trying to grab some grub. Steven glares into his cup as he downs the rest of the water. He hates it when he starts overthinking and over-worrying.

Perhaps he can appropriate Jen as his good luck charm, nothing bad happened to him while he was around her. Steven's not particularly superstitious but he can appreciate a good placebo effect. So yeah, he's going to lunch with Jen.

With his mind made up, he tosses his cup into the trashcan and heads back to his desk. Before he even comes close to it, Steven spots the green-eyed angel talking to some girl. This could be it! This could be his chance to go to lunch with him!

Wait, why does he want to do that? What's compelling him to?

Nothing, that's what. Steven doesn't want to have lunch with the mysterious stranger and-... He's just trying to make friends, right? There's nothing wrong with that. Right? It's just lunch, that's all. Means nothing. He can have lunch with Mr. Keychain and it doesn't mean squat. Yeah.

Jen looks like her conversation with the manager is just done, so Steven, being the charmer that he is, slides right up to Jen with an eager grin.

"Hey Jeeeeennnn, wanna-g'lunch?"

"Uh sure... we can continue this later, right Ned? I'm kinda hungry." The man named Ned brings his gaze from Jen over to him and Steven can immediately smell the trouble.

"Actually, Steven... Steven right? Can I talk to you for a moment?" He wants to say no. He wants to say 'get out of my freaking way' but that would be incredibly rude, so Steven instead throws a quick glance over his shoulder to see if he still has time. But just as he looks over...

...Mr. Distraction is leaving the building with a bunch of other people that Steven doesn't know.

Well, that's a bust. Steven turns back to the manager-guy/person/Ned and just smiles and nods, hoping his deep irritation doesn't show. Ned simply claps his hands together with a keenness that Steven is mildly afraid of.

Steven sighs internally, not only did he not manage to go to lunch with his stranger, he also failed to dodge Ned like he wanted to... Wait, did he just say 'his' stranger? Uh oh.

This day just keeps getting better and better.


	3. At You

# Chapter 3 - At You

What is a good time to send funny cat videos?

Trick question! The answer is 'always'. Steven pushes on the 'send' button with a little too much enthusiasm, his phone almost flies out of his hand. Oops.

"For fucks sake, Steven," A voice playfully pleads. "Pay some attention to the people sitting right in front of you." Steven is actually done with his phone but just for the fun of it, he keeps scrolling, ignoring the voice.

"Oh, let the man live..." A second voice joins in on the banter. "Not like you're not a phone addict yourself, Mateo..." Steven tries extremely hard to suppress his laughter, you can actually _hear_ the eye roll in that sentence.

"Fuck off, _Yanny_!" Liam drags out the last syllable just to be annoying and it earns him a har shove from Laurel. That always gets her, she huffs in mock anger and Steven actually laughs this time.

The waiter returns with their dessert and Steven puts his phone away to accept his ice-cream cone. Laurel is practically drooling at her strawberry shortcake but Liam is ignoring his lava cake, opting instead to shoot Steven an unimpressed look.

"Of course food would be the one thing to get your attention." Without breaking eye contact, Liam picks up his fork and stabs his food with such force that it almost sounds like he cracked the plate. Laurel's alternating between tutting at his lack of table manners and humming in appreciation of her cake.

"Food will always be my first love." Steven has his phone out again and is swinging his arms in a few different directions to get a good angle for his selfie. It's not exactly surprising that this is the kind of content he sends Andrew the most often (after cat videos), sharing food is, after all, their thing. And since they can't do it in the most literal sense, photographs will have to do.

After settling on the best photo, Steven starts adding stickers. One hand on his phone, the other holding his ice-cream. Naturally in his distracted state, he ends up misjudging where his face should go and plunges his nose directly into the cold, cold confectionary.

The suddenly coldness and wetness coating his nose makes him yelp and almost drop the cone. His coworkers laugh but Liam extends a napkin from across the table, and an open hand offering to hold his cone for him. Steven accepts the help with an embarrassed but grateful smile, wiping his nose clean while putting the finishing touches on the photo.

'I scream for ice-cream!'  
'Do you?' 

Steven thinks the text is pretty on point, and happily sends it off to Andrew. When he sets phone down, Liam mutters a silent 'finally'. He impatiently hands off Steven's cone and gets back to his own dessert. 

"Who's got you so caught up anyway?" Laurel asks, casually waving her fork at Steven, pretending to be uninterested. "You've been glued to your phone this whole week." Liam nudges her with his elbow and she glares back at him. Steven knows that Laurel is trying to pry into his love life again. He's almost tempted to tell her he's engaged just to get her to do a spit take.

Sometimes Steven himself forgets about it, Ying had requested that they keep it a secret until they had the opportunity to tell her parents. She wanted to do it in person with Steven and he agreed to the whole thing because he kind of gets it. He had somewhat jumped the gun with his proposal, neglecting to ask them for their daughter's hand in marriage prior. The least he can do is to deliver the news to them personally, they're not super traditional but it's better to be safe than sorry.

So, as much as he wants to mess with his coworkers, Steven is a man of his word and keeps the news of he engagement to himself. Okay, so he kinda already broke his promise (which is really really bad, all things considered) but... it's Andrew. How can he not tell Andrew? He...

Steven sighs, he gives Laurel a good dramatic eye-roll and starts chowing down on the waffle cone. He's not in love with Andrew. He's not. He loves Ying, has for years and they're getting married soon. If he were in love with Andrew (which he's not), he wouldn't be able to so confidently propose to Ying and be so ready to marry her. He's straight. There is no confusion here.

Ying is smart, beautiful, sweet and kind. She's driven and ambitious and knows what she wants, and works hard for it. She loves animals, trying new food, traveling and seeing the world. But most importantly, she loves Steven and that's just it, isn't it? Everything is right and perfect and exactly how it should be. There is no mistake here.

Also, Andrew is happy for him. He said he will definitely be there at the wedding which is not surprising in the least (though it's comforting). Is that something he would do if he were in love with Steven? Nope. And sure, Steven really wanted him as his best man but if Andrew's not comfortable with doing it, then Steven's not gonna force him to. That's just how normal friendship work. There are no doubts here.

Speaking of Andrew, Steven's phone vibrates on the table and he happily picks it up and... oh, it's Ying.

* * *

'I think I have to pull another all nighter'  
'Can we Skype tomorrow instead?'

'Of course!'  
'Don't stay up too late'  
'You still need to rest'  


'Don't worry about me <3'  
'I can take care of myself' 

'I can't help it'  
'Miss you <3<3<3' 

'Miss you too'

* * *

Ying's been working late a lot recently, it's not that there's anything wrong with it... but Steven's worried nonetheless. Normally they would Skype every other night however it's been almost a week since their last call. There's something almost unsettling but he doesn't want to dwell on it.

"Oh. Steven!" Laurel suddenly exclaims, like she just had a bright idea. "Wanna go clubbing tonight? Alice can get us on the VIP list."

Alice is in charge of social media, she probably knows more people than Steven has met in his lifetime. Any other day Steven would be all over this offer but today, he just wants to get home and put on some Netflix. His social battery needs recharging.

"That's nice but... I don't really-"

"Come on, Steven!" Liam pleads, leaning in with pouty lips and puppy eyes. 

"Yeah! Do have any idea how hard it is to get on the list for that place?" Laurel adds, immediately Liam's expression changes. He lens back in his seat and narrows his eyes.

"Okay, but it's still not better than Cecil's" Liam mumbles to himself.

"All of that... literally means nothing to me." Steven can feel himself giving in even though he really doesn't want to. "I don't really care if it's exclusive or not."

"Come on, come on, pretty please..." Laurel's put her palms together, literally begging him. Although he knows he should take some time to unwind because, as they say, all work and no play makes Steven an overwound ball of stress... he really, really, _really_ doesn't want to go. 

"Nah, I'm not really feeling up for it." He gives (what he hopes) is an apologetic smile but inwardly he's praying that she will drop the subject. Fortunately, his prayers are answered.

"Fine. Your loss." Liam elbows Laurel again, and she scowls at him. Again. Wonder what that is about...

Steven ends up going anyway because he likes torturing himself like that. He had headed home immediately after work but found himself mindlessly pacing back and forth in his kitchen. There's this pent up nervous energy in him that he cannot explain.

On the other hand, he's never gone drinking with his new colleagues before, so it would be... interesting (yeah, let's call it interesting) to see what they are like when under the influence.

It's some nightclub called 'Galaxy' and honestly, Steven feels like he's a little old for this location. It's loaded with youngsters and some of them look like they got in using fake ID's. But Steven doesn't care, that's not his problem anyway.

He's only here for the alcohol, hoping that it will help dull the weird twisting feeling in his chest.

Andrew still hasn't replied, and it's been half a day. Steven wants to ask if he's okay but at the same time doesn't want to be a bother. He's been asking the same questions everyday. 'How are you today?' 'Do your legs still hurt?' 'What's your plans for the day?'

It did occur to him that his constant texting might be suffocating, but he doesn't exactly feel like he should stop. If he text less frequently, Andrew might think he's pulling away. But if he keeps spamming him, it's gonna be overwhelming. It's a lose-lose situation either way but at least he's letting Andrew know he cares.

Before Steven even have the chance to scan the room for his coworkers, Liam's already all up in his face. From how flushed his entire face is, it's pretty clear he's already had a few.

"GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT!!" Liam screams right into Steven's ear and he has to take a step back to protect his eardrums, causing him to bump into someone. The lady he collided into flips him off as she disappears into the crowd. Steven turns back to Liam who is still energetically bobbing along to the music.

"I know it's loud in here... but there's no need to yell." Liam's shaking his head and invading further into his personal space, he places both hands on Steven's shoulders and starts screaming again.

"WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Fortunately, some help turned up as Alice pushes Liam aside roughly. She flashes her signature winning smile and hands Steven a drink.

"Ignore him, he's always like this." Sure enough, Liam's already bounding off to the dance floor, unapologetically bumping into various people along the way. Okay, so that's one new thing he learned.

Alice leads him over to the booth where the rest of them are stationed. However, he doesn't recognize anyone other than Laurel but everyone's waving at him like they know who he is. They probably do. Steven doesn't want to toot his own horn but he had built quite a reputation already, and a good one too.

Between the company, the music, and just the general atmosphere, bad ideas have been seeping in past Steven's inhibitions and before he knows it, there's a few dozen empty glasses on their table. Maybe about a quarter of them are his.

Steven's a lightweight, he knows that, everyone who knows him knows that. Yet nobody has attempted to stop him tonight, not even himself. And for the last fifteen minutes or so, he's been stumbling around trying to find the washroom. He has not been successful. Alice had offered to show him the way but he told her he will simply follow the fresh scent of vomit or something to that effect.

He does roughly knows where it is, from when Liam pointed it out to him earlier on the dance floor. But when you have almost ten(?) drinks in your system... Woah, close one. Some teenage girl has been flailing around as a substitution for dancing, and almost hit Steven in the face. There are too many feet on the ground and Steven's having a hard time trying not to trample on any toes.

At long last, Steven made it to the washroom. He pushes on the door and it doesn't budge. That's not a door, that's a very tall painting. Oops. Damn it, he really needs to pee really badly. He tries looking around for any clues but the place has so many different (badly positioned) light sources that nothing short of a thousand suns combined will stand out.

Steven stumbles around for a little bit more but it's near impossible to move fast (or far) when your bladder is tearing at the seams. He gets into his hundredth collision of the night but this one comes supplied with a familiar voice.

"Woah, mate. You don't look too hot there." Ah, Liam... of course. He's looking pretty out of it himself but still leagues better than Steven. It's kind of rude actually. Steven opens his mouth to ask for help getting to the washroom but the words that actually leave aren't what he intended. 

"He didn't answer my texts." He's a little stunned by his own statement. Liam's looking just about as surprised but it only lasts a few second before morphing into something more akin to concern.

"Oh." Liam has one arm around Steven's waist and the other under his arm, hoisting him up. They move slowly towards an empty wall. "I'm sure he's just busy."

Steven's not buying it. Andrew took the day off to clean up his apartment, what would he be so busy with that he can't even take a minute to send an 'okay' or a 'haha'. Hell, Steven would be happy to even receive a single 'k'. But for all the disbelief that his mind is swirling in, he doesn't vocalize it.

"Maybe." He's leaning against the wall now, feeling the quaking bass of the music punching away at his back. Liam's right beside him, and Steven swears his eyes momentarily flicked down towards his lips. That's weird.

Locked in that moment, with the blaring speakers accentuating the harsh club lighting, Liam looks a lot like someone familiar, someone he knows... Their faces are sitting very close, and are they... moving closer? A sudden blast of hot breath in the face sends the room spinning. There's an unrelenting dizzying feeling pulling Steven in every direction and it almost makes him forget about his bursting bladder.

But even with all the colors and lights spinning, there's a smiling face that never leaves Steven's sight. Who is he? A second wave of nausea hits Steven right in the gut, and as queasy as he is, he's not gonna throw up. He's not gonna throw up. He's _not_ gonna throw up. He's **not** gonna throw up. He's **_not_** gonna throw up...

He throws up. On something. Liam probably.

The last thing Steven remembers is how soft the carpeted floor feels against the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, this chapter takes place concurrently with [Chapter 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275490/chapters/37010097) of ['The Cruelest Way'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275490).


	4. Note on Your Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an echo chapter. The story will alternate between normal chapters (set in the 'present') and echo chapters (set in the past). The echo chapters will link up the normal chapters with additional context.

# Chapter 4e - Note on Your Door

Everything hurts.

His limbs, his lungs, his throat and most notably, his head. What kind of hell is Steven in? There is a burst of light that is blinding him through his eyelids and searing his retinas. He tries turning his head to get away from it but the light refuses to leave. Frustrated, Steven throws an arm over his face and he's plunged back into darkness. Better.

How did he get into this state?

Better question, where is he? With his pounding headache, getting up isn't an option, so Steven reaches out with his free hand, blindly feeling around his surroundings. There is his night stand (he thinks), so this should be his bedroom. A safe place, good. It would be bad if he found himself in some random location that he doesn't know.

So he's at home, lying in his bed, feeling like he might be dying, which leaves the one question: what the hell happened?

Flashes of last night slowly begin to pierce the mental fog, it's not much but enough for Steven to roughly piece it together.

  1. Someone sent him home.
  2. He got drunk.
  3. He passed out.
  4. He threw up on someone.
  5. He was at a party.



Logically, those events probably didn't happen in that particular order. Steven can't seem to recall any of the details, such as _who_ had sent him home.

How much did he even drink?

Steven gently rubs the sleep out of his eyes and when his fingers come in contact with his cheeks, there's a spark of static. And it resurfaces what appears to be a memory.

Or maybe it was just a fever dream but Steven thought he had felt someone caressing his face while he was lying in bed, semi-conscious. Yeah, definitely a fever dream. No way that could have actually happened.

What time is it already?

Steven reaches for his pockets but realizes that he's in his pajama pants, so no pockets there. Looks like this will require him to use his vision.

Slowly, Steven opens one eye. Everything's blurry and a little dizzying but it's manageable, so he opens his other eye as well. He lays there for a while just trying to adjust to his surroundings. Once the ceiling is finally back in focus, he lets his eyes wonder.

He finds that his phone is carefully placed further away on his night stand, behind the lamp. And next to his phone is a glass of water and some painkillers. That mysterious someone who sent him home must have left that out for him.

Painfully getting to his side, Steven downs the painkillers with a few gulps of water, his sandpaper throat hurts when he swallows but he powers through it, knowing he will later be thankful that he did. Then he checks his phone. He has a missed call and a few messages from Ying. The last one was from over an hour ago.

* * *

'Good morning!'  
'Hello??'  
'Sleeping in? Hahahaha' 

'Morning!'  
'Sorry, there was a party last night'  
'Exhausted' 

'Exhausted or hungover?'

'Yes' 

'I knew it!'  
'You never know when to stop'

'I'm alive, so I think I stopped just in time' 

'Don't even get me started'  
'Just take care of yourself okay?'  
'Miss you Stevie <3'

'Miss you more! <3<3<3' 

* * *

Steven supposes he should get up, it's actually well into the afternoon. Maybe it's the painkillers kicking in, or the water taking effect, or maybe because he just messaged his girlfriend, but Steven's feeling quite a fair bit better already. He fights his sore muscles as he carefully sits up, taking in the sight of his bedroom.

It looks neater.

He can't explicitly say how it is neater but it just is. Maybe he's still drunk. There's a little sticky note stuck to the back of his bedroom door. Steven lifts himself off the bed and shuffles over to his door. He carefully peels the note off. The handwriting on it is ridiculously meticulous.

'You got puke all over yourself so I washed your clothes. They are out drying. Get some rest, drink more water. ‑Andrew'

Wow. That's unexpectedly nice. Hmm, so that mysterious someone in his memories has a name... Andrew. Steven vaguely recalls Andrew introducing himself. Though he doesn't remember much else of that specific conversation.

Re-reading the note, Steven realizes that Andrew didn't mention that Steven threw up on _him_ , even though he distinctly remember doing exactly that. He wonders if Andrew simply didn't want him to feel bad.

"Andrew, Andrew, Andrew..." Steven rambles to the air. That's a nice name, it kinda just rolls off the tongue. There's something amusing about how proper it sounds. "Andrew."

Chuckling quietly to himself, Steven re-sticks the note onto his desk. Opting to keep it as some sort of memento. A yawn climbs over him as he stretches and runs his fingers through his hair. Ew. Steven pulls his hand back and grimaces at it, disgusted by the greasiness. Time to shower, he thinks.

Grabbing a set of fresh clothes and a towel out of his dresser, Steven heads across the hall to his bathroom. He shucks off his dirty pajamas and gets under the shower head.

The warm running water washes away the stickiness of his skin with ease, if only it did the same to the rest of his discomfort. Steven closes his eyes, and a pair of soft green ones greet him. They exude kindness and joy, with a just a tick of worry in them. It is pretty hypnotic-feeling.

It feels like time doesn't exist anymore. 

Little by little, more light is shed on the night before. Steven recalls generous amounts of laughter and a lot of silly chatter. He thinks maybe Andrew might have dragged him out to the balcony. They talked all night but never said enough.

There were little pockets of time where Steven was talking to other people but none of it stood out. They all sort of blend together like background noise. A comical little scene plays out where Steven got chucked into the backseat of a taxi cab by someone.

"Andrew."

Steven's lips curl up into a smile without his intention. The heat of the shower begins easing the ache of his muscles, and he has never felt more relaxed. As a matter of fact, he's so relaxed that he almost falls over.

After what feels like several days on end, Steven breaks out of his trance to dispenses himself some soap, and starts scrubbing away at his body. Every little touch brings another memory closer and closer into focus.

At one point Steven had basically lost all control of his muscles and became a mumbly puddle on the floor. He remembers Andrew's exasperated sigh and then his strong arms picking him up bridal style. Steven had merely giggled at the motion and found himself staring intently at Andrew, carefully studying his eyes.

Even now the thought makes him giggle, it makes zero sense why it does. Steven shuts off the shower and towels himself dry, before changing into his clean clothes. He leaves the bathroom feeling more refreshed and energized, but remains somewhat wobbly.

With those green eyes still etched into his mind, Steven can hear a soothing voice reminding him to eat something. It sounds like a good idea even though he isn't particularly hungry.

As he steps into the kitchen, the first thing Steven notices is a notable lack of a dirty dish pile. He doesn't remember having done the dishes, and he's fairly certain there was a pile that accumulated over the past few days...

Wait, did Andrew also do his dishes?! That man is a saint! Steven had threw up on him and not only did Andrew not make a big fuss about it, but he also sent Steven home and went out of his way to help clean up his place... all on his own volition.

Steven reaches for his phone with the intention of at least sending a 'thank you' but it then registers in his head that they didn't exchange numbers. That might also explain the sticky note. Seems like it will have to wait till he gets back to work, so he adds it to his mental to-do list.

Rummaging through his pantry, Steven finds a packet of instant hot chocolate and some bread, and starts preparing his very late breakfast. It still baffles him how and why Andrew tidied up his place for him. 

Either Andrew didn't drink all that much, or he has some sort of alcohol immunity.

But that doesn't answer the 'why' part. Maybe that's just how he is. Steven partially dips a slice of bread into his hot chocolate and takes a big bite of it. Or maybe Andrew just feels bad for him. Either way, he is very sweet and Steven definitely needs to find a way to make it up to him.

Steven quickly scarves down the rest of his food and leaves the mug by the sink, thereby restarting the dirty dish pile. He exits the kitchen and wanders into the living room, almost feeling normal again.

When Steven drops onto the couch, he has every intention of putting on some Netflix and catching up on his shows. But once he's sat down, it dawns on him that the remote is all the way on the other side of the room, laying on the TV stand. Damn it. He should've grabbed it earlier. Now he's too lazy to get back up.

With his phone running low on battery and having nothing else to entertain himself with. Steven decides to go for the next best thing, a nap. Trying to get back to sleep isn't hard, the instant he lies down his eyelids immediately flutter shut without resistance. There's a cool afternoon breeze blowing through the living room that nudges him further into dreamland.

As the lull of sleep serenades him, Steven's thoughts drift away from real life and into some sort of alternate dimension. Little snippets of happiness pass by him. Some of them have him playing with his cats in the backyard. Some of them have him tucking his kids in to bed at night. Some of them have him making breakfast and bringing it on a tray to his still asleep lover.

One moment he's swimming in the Maldives under the bright picturesque sunlight, and another moment he's in Seoul, staring out the window and watching the first snow fall at night. It's all very soft and peaceful. Steven doesn't know why his brain is indulging in such fantasies but he doesn't fight it.

He has one final clear thought right before he fully falls asleep.

Andrew.


	5. I Love You

# Chapter 5 - I Love You

Going drinking on a work night is one of the worst ideas ever.

Doubly so when you're a featherweight.

It's a good thing Marcus is on vacation this week. If not, they will never hear the end of it. The past few days had the team scrambling to meet deadlines thanks to the drop in productivity caused by hangovers. And pushing work back had a domino effect, by this point the entire house of cards has come crumbling down. While (most of) the rest of the office hummed along like a well-oiled machine, the corner that Steven occupies is metaphorically engulfed in flames.

Laurel claims she has no regrets but she has it the worst. She has three different projects to work on at the same time. Steven's glad that he's new and only has to focus on one thing but even so, the production meetings were a mess. He had to keep asking people to repeat themselves because he couldn't catch what they were saying. He's pretty sure most of them are convinced he's going deaf or something.

Fortunately, Alice was there to smooth things out for him. She seemed completely unaffected by their night of drinking, maybe it's experience or maybe she just didn't drink all that much. Either way, Steven is glad that at least one person was a responsible adult. However, since Alice's area of expertise lies elsewhere, she could only offer that much help.

Steven had thought of turning to Liam for help but he's out of town, visiting family. He managed to offer some advice through texts and a couple of emails but that was the extent of it. With everyone else too busy with their own work, Steven was left to figure things out on his own. Though he may have pushed himself a little too hard.

He wasn't sure what brought it on but today everybody was suddenly urging him to take the rest of the day off. He adamantly refused to, until he was basically dragged out of the office and shoved into a cab by a team of four. He didn't go down without a fight however, and may or may not have accidentally punched Alice in the jaw, which he _does_ plan on apologizing for.

With work being canceled on his behalf, a mild migraine that he still hasn't recovered from, a possible onset of flu, and nothing else to do until his date with Ying later at night... Steven ends up taking a nap of his sofa, or at least try to. It's not that he's not tired (he is), or that it's uncomfortable, but he just can't get himself to fall asleep. And he's not even worrying about anything either!

Okay, that last part is a lie. The morning after the little trip to the club, Andrew did finally reply to his text. But with all the tasks he had on hand, Steven hasn't had the time to give a proper reply. He didn't send any funny videos or photos either, merely explaining to Andrew that he's swamped with work. Andrew was unsurprisingly understanding about the whole situation but it didn't help quell his worry one bit.

He's still concerned that Andrew might think he's pulling away. Which is why for the last few hours, Steven had been trying to come up with some sort of conversation starter. The fact that he hasn't even touched his phone since he reached home is a pretty good sign of how well that is going. He could ask Andrew how his day is going but that usually leads to a dead-end very quickly.

Steven doesn't know enough about what goes down at BuzzFeed these days to ask about any specific project. Granted, it's only been a month but they move fast. With Worth It (undoubtedly) being canceled due to his departure, he has no idea what else Andrew could be working on. But going by Andrew's brand, it's probably going to be something food related. Or cats. Or both. Maybe he should just ask Andrew. Yeah, that would give them something to talk about.

As Steven pre-composes the message in his head, he grabs his phone off the coffee table and... oh shit, he's going to be late for his date! With an abruptly renewed sense of urgency, Steven dashes to get ready. He takes a blazing fast shower, barely enough to get cleaned, and speedily puts on his suit.

Ying is in New York again for a conference, and Steven made reservations at a fancy restaurant because, well, they haven't seen each other in ages (about two weeks actually but who's keeping track). The last time, they had a picnic dinner on a rooftop garden where Steven had proposed. And while he wanted to do something just as intimate this time around, he didn't have the time to prepare... hence the reservation. And if you can't make it intimate, you gotta at least make it fancy.

They agreed to meet at the restaurant, which Steven is now thankful for because if he were going to pick Ying up, she would be grumbling about how late he is. At least this arrangement makes him look a little less bad. Barely, but it's better than nothing.

By the time Steven parks his car, he's already fifteen minutes late. Ying didn't even text him to bug him about his tardiness, which speaks volumes about how often this happens. As he exits the elevator, his eyes are instantly drawn to his date who's waiting for him at the restaurant entrance.

 _Wow, Andrew looks beautiful in his suit._ Wait, what? No! Steven blinks aggressively to clear up his vision. He's here with Ying, yeah. She's standing right there, looking amazing in her red dress, looking mildly concerned.

"Sorry, something got in my eye," Steven lies, even rubbing his eyes to sell it more convincingly. Ying doesn't question it and merely nods.

He just misses Andrew, that's all. It's perfectly normal. He misses Andrew, and he misses filming Worth It. This place is a three-dollar-sign restaurant, and he's just gotten used to dining at these kind of locations with Andrew. Yeah, that's all. Nothing to it. Everything is fine. Everything is normal. The hostess escorts them to their seats, which are near the windows. Steven pauses a little when he looks out the windows, the sight of the cityscape still amazes him even now.

After sitting down, Steven finally tears his gaze away from the city view to look at Andr- YING! Damn it, what is wrong with him? He fiddles with a corner of the menu, barely reading the items off it, Ying's talking about something that happened at the conference but Steven's not giving her his full attention. He's more preoccupied with trying not to look like he's hiding something. Which, he isn't. There's nothing to hide. He's just worried about Andrew and misses him.

That's all.

The rest of dinner flies by in a blink of an eye and without anymore 'incidents'. Most of the time was spent catching up. Even though nothing much had happened since the last time they saw each other, neither of them seem to run out of things to say.

But the couple soon find themselves at a deserted outdoors area in a different part of the building, because Ying suggested that they find a quiet place to talk. She's quiet the entire time while they walked, causing embers of fear to spark up inside Steven... he had a bad feeling about this 'talk'.

Now they stand on the balcony, a short distance from the railings, both of them not quite looking at each other nor at the scenery. Steven pushes his hands into his pants pockets, clenching his fists tightly and hoping that his emotions don't show that blatantly. Ying appears to be nervous too, she's twirling a lock of her hair around a finger, the other hand smoothing out the ruffles of her skirt. This feels a lot like the kind of talk that they should be sat down for but there's no place to sit but the floor, so they remain on their feet. 

"There is something I need to ask you."

"What is it?"

"It's... about Andrew." As soon as those words hit Steven's eardrums, he feels his stomach drop with a force that's far more relentless than gravity. He should have seen this coming but he didn't, and the sudden flood of emotions overwhelm him. He has no idea how he feels, there's too much going on.

"Not you too!" Steven says without meaning to. Everyone keeps grilling him about this, he's so tired of having to explain it.

"Steven... be honest with me," Ying pleads, she doesn't look at him but at the railings, at her hands. He watches as one of her thumbs trace the chrome surface of the railings, trace the reflection of the orange wall light behind them. This is going to be tough for the both of them.

They always had that transparency in their relationship, they talked about almost anything and everything, even though neither of them were particularly good at it. No secrets were kept, and they agreed that they will always talk things through because it was good for them, because it was necessary for a healthy relationship. But right now, Steven regrets some of the things he once said.

"I told you! That was just a one time thing! I was hungover a-and... confused!"

It's no surprise that Ying immediately knew what he was talking about, even though they've only discussed it once ever. She's a good listener and has a good memory, unlike him. Steven can't remember half the things she told him. He felt bad about it initially but seeing there's really nothing much he could do about it, he decided not to be too hard on himself.

"So you... never thought of Andrew in that way ever since?" Ying asks in a small voice, taking one tiny step towards him. She's looking at him with an indescribable look in her eye, maybe it's fear, maybe it's hope... maybe it' something else entirely, Steven was never good at reading people.

"No! Absolutely not!" Steven asserts, a little louder than he intended. Ying startles, flinching back an inch but her expression remains unchanged. Steven's mind turns on him.

_Liar._

Steven forces himself to make eye contact as a show of confidence, to let Ying know that he's telling the truth. The voice in his head amplifies, repeating that one word over and over again. He swallows and the dryness of his throat makes the action slightly painful. The rush of blood in his ears makes it feel like a pair of warm hands clapped the sides of his head, holding him, blocking any and all sounds that attempt to reach him. He doesn't know what to say but it doesn't appear like Ying does either.

The air grows thick and it's getting hard to breathe. He has to take in larger gulps but it's not enough, the air doesn't seem like they want to enter his lungs. His jaw grows fatigued from holding his mouth open. His fingers turn twitchy, as the cold night air brushes past him, prickling his eyes and forcing him to blink. His eyelids pulls a thin layer of tears across his field of vision, it isn't much but it's enough to make everything look blurry. No, he's not crying. He's _not_ going to cry. There's nothing to cry about.

_"Hey, hey... it's okay," Andrew hushes him soothingly, with a soft sympathetic smile. "It's okay, Steven..."_

NO!! Andrew's not here! Damn it, what is wrong with him? Why does he keep seeing Andrew? Steven clenches his jaw, trying his best not to blink any more than necessary. The last thing he needs is to look upset when he isn't...

...is he?

"I just... don't want you to regret not giving yourself the chance," Ying mumbles, barely loud enough to be heard over the harsh winds. As much as Steven appreciates her concern, it's not something that she needs to worry about. Not now, not ever.

"It's okay, I can live without ever knowing if," Steven tries to reassure her but the buzzing in his head doesn't stop. Like a monster under his bed, it keeps trying to instill fear in him even though he knows there's nothing to be afraid of. 

"But I can't! I want you to be happy, and I don't want to be the reason that _years_ from now you realize that this isn't what you wanted and end up _miserable_."

"That's not going to happen!"

"How can you know without even trying to understand yourself?"

"I just know." How is this so hard to understand? Not everything has to be explained. Why does everyone think they know him better than himself? There's a short moment of quiet as Ying takes a deep breath, her eyes have never been more opaque. There's no telling what is going through her mind right now. 

"You're sure." It sounds more like a question than a statement, Steven thinks he should feel insulted but after all the prodding from his friends and coworkers alike, he's pretty numb to all their dubiety. He knows how he feels, so why can't they just accept what he says and move on?

"Yes, I'm sure."

There's more dreaded silence, as Ying shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Steven admits that he's usually already quite bad at reading people but it's never been this blatantly difficult. He doesn't know what Ying is thinking or how she's feeling. The only certainty right now is that she is thinking. What about, he has no idea. Maybe he should suggest they postpone this discussion, to some other more appropriate time and place. But he doesn't get the chance as Ying breaks the silence once again.

"Well, _I'm_ not. Steven, I need you to _know_. I need you to know for sure how you truly feel about Andrew. Steven, please... for my sake?"

Oh, for f-

"I'm not in love with Andrew!! I. _Love._ **You!** " Steven yanks his hands out of his pockets, stepping forward and reaching out for Ying but he finds himself stopping midway for no reason. He clenches his fists again and lowers his arms, looking off to the side at the floor. He doesn't know what he's feeling at the moment, but he doesn't like it. "Of all people, I thought you would understand that."

"I _do_ understand. But I need you to understand that loving me and loving Andrew is not mutually exclusive." Why is she being so insistent on this? Unless...

...no, she wouldn't... would she?

"What are you saying...?"

"I think... I think what I'm trying to say is... we should take a break so you can figure this out."

There it is.

"There's nothing to figure out!" He can't even look at her anymore. Steven turns to face the light-polluted skyline, training his eyes on a single lit window, refusing to let his gaze wander. "You're overthinking this! I know how I feel!" He leans forward against the railings, the cold metal bites his skin through the thin fabric of his sleeves, drawing out an involuntary shiver. "You're just using _that_ as an excuse to break up with me!"

"What?" Ying's vocal cords blow out mid-syllable, making her question sound more like a forceful wheeze than a word.

_"Steven, no..."_

"You heard me! If you wanted out of this, just freaking say so! You didn't have to pin it all on Andrew." The light from the window at the center of his vision begins to flare out like a star. Steven can feel the heat rising inside him, he can't believe that it has come to this.

"Steven! I would never-"

 ** _"STOP!!"_** Steven yells out, turning around and glaring down at Ying who freezes up, holding her hands close to her chest, looking legitimately frightened for her life. A heavy bubble swells up in Steven's throat, it's solid and bitter, and stuck. But a dark thought flashes across his mind and pushes the bubble over the edge. "We're through."

Steven storms off towards the indoors, he hears Ying calling out his name but he ignores it. He steps into the lift fully expecting Ying to show up at the last second to stop the doors from closing, but it doesn't happen. As the elevator car descends, Steven can feel his heart doing the same. The weight of his actions are beginning to climb onto him as the numbness of the night wears off.

When the ceiling light briefly flickers, Steven realizes that he's been staring at the floor number on the display the entire time. And even though it feels like minutes have past, he's not even halfway to the ground floor. He tears his gaze away from the screen and that's when he sees his own reflection in the shiny lift doors. It's slightly cloudy but even so, it's clear as day that he looks absolutely wrecked.

The elevator finally reaches its destination and Steven hurries out as there may be people around. It's stupid but he doesn't want to be seen like this. Once out of the building and back into the darkness, his footsteps slow down. He had intentionally parked right next to the building but now his car feels like a million miles away.

Each step feels heavier than the last and very quickly he's gone to dragging his feet across the rough cement pavement. It's gonna ruin his nice shoes but he doesn't care right now, he's running on reserve energy, which means his sensibilities have powered down.

By the time he makes it to the parking spot, Steven is certain that the soles of his shoes are silky smooth. After struggling for an embarrassingly long time with his key fob, Steven finally gets in his car. He starts the engine and puts on his seat belt but when he grips the steering wheel, he realizes that he can't drive, not in this state. But he needs to get out of here... the frustration keeps building up until it's too much.

 **FUCK!** That wasn't supposed to happen. Steven punches the steering wheel and accidentally triggers the horn, startling himself. Enraged and agitated, he throws his head back, smashing against the unyielding headrest.

He can't believe he did that, his mind feels disconnected from the rest of him, and from reality. It's like he's not truly present but merely observing his own stupid actions. Did he really just break up with Ying back there? Did it even make sense for him to? Maybe it's the lack of energy messing up his thought process but he feels like his actions were justified. He can't actually justify them but he feels like he can.

That doesn't make sense.

Did all those years mean nothing to him? The vision of the future he had been building crumbles before him. And he hates that even now, all he can think about is how much he just wants Andrew to be here. Shit. Is there truth to their words? Or are they just starting to get to his head?

_"Don't listen to them... There's nothing wrong with you." Andrew leans over from the passenger side, hovering protectively over Steven, biting his lower lip, a frown on his face, his eyes wide and almost glowing in the darkness. There's an unmistakable sadness in them, and a pang of guilt strike Steven where it hurts most, in his heart._

"Andrew."

Steven reaches out to touch Andrew and the illusion shatters. He's sitting alone in his car, talking to himself, losing his fucking mind. The tears that he was miraculously able to hold back this entire time, break free. It must look absolutely ridiculous but he curls up in the driver's seat, resting on his side, looking over at the passenger seat.

The tears trek sideways down his face, some of it finds its way to his lips. Licking the saltiness away, Steven grits his teeth and raises a hand in front of him, grabbing the air, shaking his fist about, trying to reverse what he's been doing the entire night. Trying to get the apparition to reappear... but nothing happens. His arm falls to his side, all hope lost.

"Andrew..."


	6. Dancing With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an echo chapter. The story will alternate between normal chapters (set in the 'present') and echo chapters (set in the past). The echo chapters will link up the normal chapters with additional context.

# Chapter 6e - Dancing With You

This is hopeless.

It's pretty late in the afternoon already and all Steven has managed to achieve is opening seventy-six thousand tabs in his browser, all of them useless. Sighing, he grabs the pillow he's half-sitting on and hugs it tight, resting his chin on it and burying half his face. This wasn't supposed to happen, he's _supposed_ to be coming up with video ideas with Andrew but his mind refuses to cooperate. Instead he's basically wasted yet another day mindlessly surfing the internet.

Not that Andrew has done any better.

They're supposed to be brainstorming _together_ but every few minutes Andrew stops to show him some meme he found. Or worst still, a Vine. The platform is already starting to die and Andrew only just found out about it. Steven should be a lot more annoyed about having his train of thought broken repeatedly, but he can't find it in him to get mad at Andrew. Especially not when he's been the most entertaining part of the entire day.

So Steven has learnt, over the last year that Andrew is truly... something else. He can't find the words to describe it but all he knows is that Andrew is someone that he is certain he wants to keep around for the rest of his life. Perhaps it is a sign from above, but the very first time they 'met' and also the first time they _actually_ met, became memories that remains so vividly branded into his mind even to this day.

Everything between them is so easy, which had come as a huge surprise to Steven. Andrew just seemed so stoic and stiff and unyielding that it was simply impossible that he would be even willing to put up with Steven's energy, much less become one of his closest friends.

But nothing is impossible it seems.

Right now, they're just sitting in Andrew's apartment each quietly doing their own things on their respective laptops, with a slow-paced classical piece playing in the background. Somehow Steven is suddenly feeling so overwhelmed by the joy from having Andrew in his life that it's almost stupid. He looks over at Andrew with a wide smile, and almost immediately, the subject matter at hand notices the attention put on him, he looks up from his laptop and frowns.

"What?" Andrew's eyes narrow with suspicion and their green-ness feels even more piercing than usual, momentarily stunning Steven. Having nothing planned in his mind to say, he immediately blurts out the very first thing that pops into his head.

"Do you even have any music from _this_ century?" Steven somehow manages to surprise himself with his question but not Andrew.

"Ha-ha," he deadpans sarcastically. "Of course I do." He then clicks around his computer, and with a wide grin, he does one final, intentionally loud click on the trackpad.

The speakers go silent for a short moment before resuming with a different track. The change in audio quality is extremely apparent, this new track is way clearer and obviously recorded with modern equipment, not to mention the music itself sounds far less traditional but... it's still very clearly classical-style music performed by an orchestra. Well, shit. Andrew is watching Steven's reaction with a smirk and catches the overdramatic eye-roll intended for him.

"What the hell is this?" Steven asks while pointing an accusatory finger at the speakers. The disgusting smirk on Andrew's face grows even wider before it promptly vanishes, in its place is a happy little 'innocent' grin.

"Oh, it's nothing... just some _modern_ classical music."

"Dang it, Andrew!" Steven curses but without any real heat behind his words. Andrew bursts into laughter at his reaction, nimbly slipping his computer off his lap and onto the coffee table while his entire body shakes with glee. He then makes several failed attempts to form complete sentences, though Steven manages to catch a few dozen from's and twice as many you's out of the fragments.

He doesn't know what it is but there's something about this sight before Steven that's lighting up parts of his brain, and he finds a smile tugging at his lips. Perhaps what's weirder is this inertia he feels that is stopping him from fully letting out his smile. What's wrong with him? He _should_ smile! This is funny!

When Andrew finally regains his composure, he's already slid halfway off his armchair and onto the ground. Playing with the loose fabric on the chair, he chuckles and shows off the worst shit-eating grin history has ever seen.

"You did say _'from this century'_ ," Andrew reminds him, watching his reaction and clearly enjoying what he's seeing way too much.

"I hate you." It's probably the biggest lie Steven has ever told, and they both know it.

"You're just jealous that I have better music taste than you," Andrew counters playfully.

"Shut up."

"Yes, let's stop talking and enjoy the music." Andrew nods in irking agreement, casually waving his fingers around like conducting batons.

"Are you always this insufferable?" Steven asks dismissively, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his screen. The question must have caught Andrew off guard, as Steven notices how he stiffened up out of the corner of his eye.

"Is it that bad?" Andrew asks, sounding genuinely hurt. "Sorry."

A million different sentence combinations runs through Steven's mind as he tries to find a way to undo this, but by the time he came up with something passable, the moment to speak has gone and passed. So instead, he takes the opportunity, when the music changes, to get up and dance.

"What do you think you're doing?" Andrew asks, trying and failing to keep an amused smile off his face. 

"Dancing, obviously."

"You can't dance like _that_ to **this**!" Andrew exclaims, jumping out of his seat and gesturing wildly at both Steven and the speakers simultaneously. He then crosses his arms like a disapproving parent but the tiny little smile doesn't go anywhere.

"Oh yeah? How would you do it?" Steven challenges him while continuing with his moves, the kind that he usually only bust out at clubs and stuff. With a loud groan, Andrew takes him on.

"Let me show you."

Andrew walks around to the front of the coffee table where there is more space. He stops in the center of the room, straightening his stance and his t-shirt in one swift motion, and after a short pause, he brings his hands up and starts waltzing with an invisible partner. While Andrew's day-to-day motions can hardly be classified as clumsy, Steven had never expected him to be able to move this fluidly.

He's sort of slow dancing, except faster, more energetic but still very graceful. And even though he is stepping in shoes against the hardwood floor, Andrew moves completely silent save for the soft swooshing of air that is heard when he makes a particularly big sweeping motion with his arms. His face is its usual stoic self but there's a little sparkle in his eyes that shows off just how much he enjoys this.

"Wow," is all Steven can manage, completely stunned and taken aback by the enchanting show put on before him. Andrew finishes his performance as the song closes, he takes a bow when Steven applauds (because how else do you show appreciation for being given such an incredible sight to behold?). "I never knew you can dance that well. I wish I could... even if I were half as good, I'd be satisfied."

"I can teach you," Andrew offers, handing a hand out, beckoning him to dance as if they were a couple of high-schoolers at prom. And suddenly, it's like he was cast back to a decade ago, Steven feels a crippling shyness taking over him, as if they were actually at prom, as if Andrew were his date. 

_Would it be so bad?_

Various imagery flood Steven's mind. Some are warm and inviting, others cold and numbing, none of them make sense, but all of them are about Andrew. The confusion is unsettling, he needs to snap out of it.

"There isn't enough space here," Steven points out, trying to turn Andrew down without outright doing so. He really wants to learn but at the same time he really really really doesn't want to embarrass himself.

"Then we make space," Andrew replies dryly, the implied eye-roll perfectly audible in his tone. With a grunt, Andrew picks up the coffee table, careful not to tilt it too much and cause their laptops and phone to slide off it. Steven watches as he slowly make his way over to the corner, specifically eyeing the muscles on his arms and how they fill out his sleeves so perfectly. He's never really noticed that before. Does Andrew work out? Steven racks his memory for an answer but finds nothing.

With the coffee table out of the way, there's suddenly more than enough space in the middle of the living room. Swallowing nervously, Steven steps towards Andrew who carefully moves him into position. Andrew's grip on his waist is gentle yet firm, and it's making him tense up... but in a good way, he thinks. They begin swaying to the rhythm, Andrew taking the lead and Steven cautiously following it. This track is far slower than the last, and it's kind of... _romantic_?

Steven swears that Andrew must be some sort of human furnace, because every single point of contact has got his skin burning up. Or maybe the AC stopped working. Either way, it's getting really warm in here. Despite how hot he's feeling everywhere else, Steven's hands go cold and clammy, which feels disgusting against Andrew's t-shirt, and even worse against his soft and cosy hands. But if Andrew had any thoughts on it, he doesn't voice them.

Slowly but surely with every step that they take, Steven feels his muscles beginning to loosen up and relax. Maybe it's the steady rhythm, maybe it's melodious tune...

_...maybe it's Andrew._

The sudden voice in his head that piped up actually startles Steven with its words, causing him to make a stride that's a little too wide and a little too much to the left, and he steps straight onto Andrew's foot. Their knees mash together and the effect it has on Steven is not unlike pulling out one of the bottom blocks of an already wobbly, unstable Jenga tower.

As the two of them collapse onto the armchair, Steven feels something jabbing his ribs and then hears an extremely loud crack. He instinctively winces as he prepares for the pain but it never comes. Then the thought hits him.

Andrew! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

Steven quickly scrambles to get himself off of Andrew but with his balance thrown and gravity being an asshole, he only manages to briefly lift himself up slightly before falling back down again with nearly as much force as the first time.

"Shit! Sorry! Sorry!!" Steven apologizes profusely, hoping that Andrew will tell him that he's fine or something to put his mind at ease. But Andrew simply remains perfectly still and silent, fueling Steven's panic further, which doesn't help matters in the slightest.

After several more seconds of frenzied flailing, Steven finally manages to roll himself off the chair and off of Andrew. But he doesn't give himself any time to rest, immediately springing up onto his feet to check on Andrew.

Please be fine. Please be fine. Please be fine. 

Whoever it is in the chair (Steven cannot ascertain it is Andrew anymore) is staring at him with the widest, shocked eyes. He doesn't look to be in pain, which eases Steven's worry somewhat, but the horrified expression on his face isn't doing either of them any favors.

"Andrew?" Steven's voice cracks so fantastically that it singlehandedly skyrockets embarrassment into third place for 'strongest emotion felt', right behind fear and panic. The thumping of his heart is so loud in his ears that he can barely hear it when Andrew speaks.

"I'm good, I'm okay..." Andrew finally says, sounding like he just woke up from a long nap with his husky voice and all. Relief floods Steven like a bucketful of cold water but there's still...

"What about the crack? I heard a crack."

"Wasn't me. I think it's the chair..." Andrew sits up a little straighter and glares down at the armchair as if it's the source of all his problems. Steven's just glad that Andrew's fine, that was a little too much, he needs to sit down. So he lowers himself onto the coffee table, except it isn't there anymore and Steven almost splits his head open against the floor instead.

Now it's Andrew's turn to go all panicky and worried, fortunately, other than the self-inflicted shock, Steven's none the worse for wear. After triple-checking to make sure that Steven _is_ actually fine (he swears he is), Andrew starts inspecting the armchair to see if his conjecture is correct.

Meanwhile, Steven hops onto a furniture store website, already feeling guilty about breaking more of Andrew's stuff (there was that one time he broke a glass while helping Andrew unpack when he moved in to this place).

Ooh... that one looks nice, and it will fit in with the rest of his furniture too. Though, it is a little on the pricier end. After reading some reviews, it seems like this is the one, it's gotten quite a lot of praise from other customers, especially for it's high quality.

Looks like he will have to postpone his trip to Korea, and save up some more money.

A split-second of hesitation later (he's been dying to visit Korea), Steven confirm his order and an email pops into his inbox with the invoice, congratulating him as the owner of a brand new armchair. Satisfied, he looks over at Andrew who is prodding at one of the stubby wooden legs of the chair.

"Don't worry about that thing, I already ordered a new one for you."

"What?" Andrew's eyes widen so much that they almost pop out of their sockets. Steven turns his laptop to face Andrew and almost immediately his jaw drops in disbelief. "That's fucking expensive!"

"It will be worth it," Steven shrugs, acting nonchalant about the cost, but internally he is crying over his Korea trip, he was really looking forward to it. Oh well, he had to do what he had to do, Steven's not an asshole and he's definitely not going to be one towards Andrew. He broke it, he has to pay for a new one. (He also tried to replace the broken glass but Andrew wasn't having any of it, so Steven sneaked it into his cabinet one day when he wasn't looking.)

"Oh my god, I just got an idea!" Andrew shouts, then looking down at the floor thoughtfully, mulling over it and mumbling to himself "Hmm, yeah, that would definitely work..."

"What is it?" Now they're getting somewhere, maybe this won't be another wasted day after all. But instead of sharing his brilliant idea, Andrew merely frowns and points at Steven's laptop.

"Cancel the order and I'll tell you," he bargains, while holding all the winning cards. Steven already half-regrets getting the chair, if Andrew pushes him any further he will most definitely cancel it.

"Andrew!" He already knows it is pointless, it'd be fighting a lost battle but that doesn't mean he will give up that easily.

"I'm serious." _Dead serious_ , the look in his eyes add. With an over-acted sigh, Steven turns the laptop back to face him. Looks like he _will_ give up that easily.

"Fine, fine..." Steven hunts for the 'cancel order' link in the email and clicks on it, while Andrew is hovering over his shoulder, watching him like a hawk. "There, happy? Now tell me what it is."

With a wide grin, Andrew takes a sit next to Steven on the couch (he doesn't trust the armchair to not fall apart it seems). He claps his hands together and his eyes light up with excitement.

"So... when you said, 'it will be worth it'..."


	7. Problems

The world is broken.

The light pouring in through the gaps between the blinds is no longer warm. The sounds of early morning traffic no longer evokes a sense of urgency. The stillness of the air in the room is no longer calming. And Steven no longer wants to open his eyes, not to _this_ world. 

But he has to. It matters not what he wants, he has a role to play in this world and it's not up to his choosing. So little by little, he wriggles his way out of his blanket cocoon. With one arm finally out, he stops, already exhausted. Maybe he can get away with staying here all day. After all, the world has already forsaken him, it's not a stretch to expect that it has also forgotten him.

 _"Don't do this, Steven..."_ Like clockwork, that voice resurface when he wants to hear it the least. That damn voice which has been haunting him non-stop the last two days. (Or should that be three?) _"Steven... you have to go to work." Andrew starts slowly moving away from the corner of the room and towards the bed, each and every step causes the ground to rumble._ The fear, the anger, the frustration all starts bubbling up inside Steven's chest. He shouldn't be in this state, and he wouldn't if it wasn't for...

"GET! OUT!!" He immediately springs up to his feet, savagely tearing the tightly wrapped layers off, blindly throwing his pillows across the room. All the time that he had been spending building up walls, ignoring the intruder in his head, comes undone in a matter of seconds. He tried so hard to not let it get to him but it clearly didn't work. (It never did, he was just lying to himself.) With his heart racing and breathing heavy, Steven feels his body temperature rising rapidly as the tiniest beads of sweat begin forming at the nape of his neck. He glares at the empty corner, silently issuing a challenge to the brazen interloper.

_"You're up," Andrew points out in a soft voice, the faintest hint of a smile forming on his lips. He looks... hopeful, and Steven feels his rage slowly easing up which only makes him want to be mad at Andrew even more. How dare he be the source of his misery and yet still be the only thing that can make him feel better? "If you grab breakfast on the way, you can still make it on time."_

"I... _hate_ you!" Steven picks up the last remaining pillow and throws is directly at not-Andrew to punctuate his point, only to completely miss and knock one of the picture frames off the wall. The tension in the room pops as the illusion disappears without another word. Steven drops back onto the mattress like the breath he didn't know he was holding, he reaches for his phone out of habit but decides against checking it just before his fingers pick it up. He _could_ just go back to sleep, or at least try to, except... it doesn't seem like the best of ideas.

Though these days everything he does looks like a bad idea in hindsight.

Steven trains his eyes on the photo frame he had hit, the shattered glass fractures the light falling on it, and makes it impossible to decipher its contents from this angle. Fortunately, none of the shards appear to have made their way out of the wooden confines but still, better be careful. Taking one cautious step after another, he very quickly finds himself standing before his photo wall with the lone victim of his outburst lying at his feet. He squats down and gingerly picks it up, doing his best to not spill the broken glass all over the floor.

It's a photo of him and Ying from years back, when he was still living in Ohio. They were on a date at the zoo which, looking back, was wildly unromantic. Still, they were happy and even took this goofy selfie with one of the giraffes in the background. The sweet innocence portrayed in the photo only deepens the sourness of their current state. He hasn't heard from Ying at all, and not from a lack of trying, any attempt he had made to reach out was met with radio silence. Although he supposes that was to be expected, and a small part of him was relieved even, as he hadn't planned what to say beyond apologizing for what he did.

Sighing defeatedly, he takes the rest of their photos off the wall, and stashes them in the bottom drawer of his dresser, effectively placing them in a time capsule that won't be opened till the next time he moves. All that remains are framed snapshots of his family... and one of him, Adam... and Andrew. Steven gives himself exactly five seconds to reminisce about the 'golden days' before heading off to the bathroom to wash up. Wouldn't want to get caught up now.

Even though there's no real need to, he puts all his attention into going through his morning routine. While he could basically do it half-asleep, it gives him something to keep his mind on and stop it from wandering into the vast unknowns of whatever it is that Andrew is to him now. He brushes his teeth halfheartedly, putting in just enough effort for them to not feel dirty. Then he washes his face, scrubbing perhaps a little too long at a problem area before realizing that nothing that he's doing will make a difference. He lazily wrings his face towel, helplessness seeping in through the cracks of his walls. Now that that's out of the way, he begins to shave. _This_ he can't let himself get distracted from, razor cuts are neither fun nor funny.

With his morning routine completed, the world feels to suck a little less, the difference is minuscule but it helps. According to knockoff-Andrew, Steven's not yet late for work and it _would_ be best if it stayed that way. Wait... that makes no sense, how would imaginary Andrew know what time it is when Steven himself doesn't? Mystified, he goes over to his bedside to sneak a quick look at his phone, pointedly ignoring whatever notifications have gathered overnight, instead guiding his eyes straight to the clock. Indeed, he won't be late for work, but only if he skips on preparing his own breakfast.

Well, that's not spooky at all.

Not wanting to have the illusion reappear and explain itself, Steven quickly finishes getting ready and is out the door before anything else can possibly slow him down.

The train ride towards work is uneventful. When he exits the station, Steven takes a short detour and ducks into Sherman's to get breakfast. Fortunately, there isn't much of a queue nor much of a crowd. He picks out his breakfast (an everything bagel and two croissants, and coffee of course), and while he's waiting for the lady to pack his food, he looks around and takes in the environment. 

The morning patrons are quiet and slow-moving as expected, and there's a certain sense of serenity radiating off of them that Steven finds is beginning to affect him. It does little to quell the hectic buzzing of his mind but at least his heart rate has lowered a few notches. He almost wants to take a seat and join them instead, it would be good for him. But he knows that he can't afford to be late today, there's one final meeting with the executives before they will green-light his video, they already like the idea but he's not gonna be complacent now, his future depends on this.

Once he's paid for and collected his food, he's out on the road again in a dash. Steven sneaks a glance at his watch and it looks like he'll make it just on time, so he slows his strides down to just slightly faster than his usual walking speed. The bustling sounds of the road wraps around him like a malevolent rope, squeezing and shrinking him like the contents of a bottle labeled 'Drink Me'. He stops in his tracks and takes one good look at the sky. It feels completely out of reach, like he's viewing it through a screen door. The dizziness spreads from his head to the rest of his body, and he almost drops his breakfast onto the concrete sidewalk.

It's so strange how he never quite picked up on the vastness of New York until now. He knows it's huge and so grand, he's always known. But it's never felt this big before, or maybe he's just never ever felt this small. Standing in the shadows of the towering buildings lining the crowded streets makes him feel so insignificant in the world, and again, he has always known that, subconsciously or not. It's just never been at the forefront of his mind.

Like a lot of things...

 _"It's okay, take your time to figure it out," Andrew pipes up unexpectedly_ but Steven manages to avoid flinching and he silently cheers in his head over that pointless little personal victory. He then continues walking, trying his best to ignore the world (and the apparition) around him. _Andrew walks by his side, matching his stride perfectly despite not having legs as long._ Well, that's one area that isn't quite true to life. Steven speeds up to attempt to lose fake-Andrew in the crowd even though he knows it would be futile. _"You don't have to face your problems right now, but running away isn't going to help."_

"Well then, what _should_ I do?!" Steven snaps in a harsh whisper, his words may well be lost to the sound of construction but it doesn't matter, hallucinations don't have ears. _Andrew's shoulders slump, his pace slows and he frowns, looking lost and a little hurt_. Steven opens his mouth to apologize _but Andrew speaks first_.

 _"I don't know... Sorry."_ Steven turns to look at faux-Andrew but he's already gone. Taking a short moment to process his emotions, Steven draws a perfect blank and sighs, he continues walking forward again before realizing that he is already in front of his office building.

That wasn't so hard.

Twenty-five steps, nine 'good morning's, and one uncomfortably silent elevator ride later, Steven stands at the door of his office, wondering if it's too late to turn around, go home, and call in sick. He finally (and unfortunately) comes to the conclusion of 'yeah, it's too late', and pushes the door open.

There's the usual office noises surrounding him, the loud clacking of keyboards, the sharp pointed clicks of mice, and the low murmur of voices harmonizes into a perfect lifeless droning. But above everything, Steven swears he hears his coworkers gossiping about him. He rationalizes that it's all in his head and that he's just trying to distract himself from the real problem (or problems) at hand.

"What happened?" Laurel immediately asks the instant he arrives at his desk, causing his heart to leap several floors up. No, he needs to chill, there's no way she would know.

"W-what do you mean?" Steven replies to the question with one of his own. A wise man (his brother, actually) once told him: 'when in doubt, play dumb', which, now thinking about it, is probably the best bad advice anyone can give.

"Well, you usually come in very early," Laurel starts, leaning forward with raised eyebrows, and it takes Steven a few seconds of silence to realize that she's waiting for him to finish it.

"Um, yeah... I overslept. Rough weekend..." Not technically a lie. He heaves a sigh of relief when Laurel visibly switches gears into gossip mode.

"I hear ya, my sister had an out-of-town business deal to settle and I _swear_ her kids are literal dem-... disasters." Steven rolls his eyes, why in the world would she think he would be offended by the word 'demons', he'll never know. At least, she had good intentions. "I almost had to call the cops on them, and they're like... four!" He's ninety-five percent certain that they're actually ten and twelve but says nothing of it as Laurel keeps on rambling.

 _Andrew stands leaning against one of the fake potted plants with his arms crossed,_ if he were real, he'd topple it and spill 'soil' everywhere but since he's fake, the flimsy plastic props him up perfectly fine. _In typical Andrew fashion, most of his face lacks any sort of discernible emotion, except his eyes. His eyes always gave him away._

"...I hope your executive meet goes well." Laurel has half her attention on this conversation and the other half on a different one in a chat group on her phone. An awkward silence hangs over them but only punishes Steven as Laurel's too engrossed typing away. He looks over at mock-Andrew _and he silently stares back._

"I hope it goes _perfect_..." Steven pulls the conversation back in, letting his words hover for a few seconds before fully committing to them. "I _need_ it to go perfect." He says more to himself than to Laurel but she responds anyway without looking up from her phone.

"Sure. Hope it goes perfect! Fingers crossed." She somehow found it in her to take one hand off the screen to literally cross her fingers, halting her typing momentarily. Finally making eye contact, she smiles warmly before sliding her chair closer towards the desk, switching back into work mode.

Steven sighs inwardly and settles in at his own workstation. He's about to face the first huge hurdle of his career over here and somehow it doesn't even make top ten on the list of 'things Steven Lim is currently worried about'.

What is his life coming to?

The higher-ups have green-lit his video idea but on the condition that he narrows down the scope from the entire country down to a single city (they even hinted that they might turn it into a series if it goes well). Steven agreed to it and stupidly chosen LA as the focal point. At that time, it seemed like such a good idea, he's familiar with the place _and_ he can meet up with friends during downtime. But now, it feels like the worst decision he's ever made, he has no idea what he would even do if he ran into the _real_ Andrew, which seems basically inevitable.

The shadowy presence nestled in the corner flickers a little brighter at that thought, and it bugs him like an itch manifesting on a phantom limb. Thoroughly shaking that sidetrack out of his mind, Steven re-reads his proposal deck for the billionth time to try and figure out what he should do next. The more times he runs through it, the stupider the concept sounds. It's basically 'Worth It' but without the price point comparison part. He's so pathetically unoriginal that he has begun to rip off his own ideas... or more accurately, Andrew's idea. Eventually he gives up on it and goes to work on something else instead of wasting even more time, although it continues to burn holes in his focus.

By midday, Steven has started avoiding leaving his desk as much as possible (he even ate granola bars at his desk for lunch) because every time he does, he'd run into someone he hasn't already and they'd magically know that something's bothering him and then he'd have to perform verbal contortions to weave around the subject. That whole song and dance is unnecessary and uncomfortable, so really this arrangement is beneficial for everyone. 

_"They just want to help," Andrew pops up again,_ this time he brought his own imaginary office chair. _He eeks closer to the desk, and Steven shifts to make some space_ even though logically it's unnecessary. _"Also, it's very obvious when you're upset."_

Steven shoots counterfeit-Andrew a look that says 'shut up' though he's still very acutely aware that this is all only happening in his head. And so he opts to keep his mouth shut, instead of alerting everyone around him that he's literally going insane.

 _"You still gotta leave your desk though," Andrew counters nonchalantly,_ earning a glare from Steven, one that can be approximately translated as 'no, I do not'. _Andrew rolls his eyes but patiently asserts his point again, "yes, you do..." and when his words still fly right over Steven's head, he sighs and points to_ the clock at the corner of the computer screen. _"The executive meeting, it starts in five."_

"Shit," Steven mutters under his breath, only mildly surprised that Laurel didn't catch that and give him grief for it. He quickly gathers all the stuff he needs and heads over to the meeting room to prepare. As he's walking and struggling to hold all his knick-knacks without dropping them (damn these cables), _Andrew follows beside him exactly like in the morning, except he's making comically large movements to avoid running into people_ who not only cannot see him, but also do not exist in the same dimension as him. The aburdity almost manages to make Steven a laugh out loud... almost. It did, however, succeed in making him fumble and drop his thumb drive.

 _"I got it," Andrew calls out and reaches down to pick up_ the little shiny blue plastic stick. _He deposits it into_ the kangaroo pouch of Steven's hoodie _with a happy little grin. "You're welcome."_

"H-how did you-" Steven can only stare at the hallucination with his jaw hanging and mouth wide open. Both his brain and his footsteps come to a screeching halt as he tries and fails to comprehend what just happened. This isn't Andrew, this isn't real! How can a figment of his imagination possibly pick up something physical and real and...

 _"You're gonna be late!" Andrew pushes Steven forward and_ it feels every bit as real as the pile of things weighing his arms down. He begrudgingly resumes his walking but notes the distinct lack of a presence hovering by his side as he moved. The possibility of actual insanity looms over Steven. His nerves get all twisted and confused over what they should be pressured by as his mind flips between the two drastically different doomsday scenarios running through his head. Eventually he brushes aside all those terrifying concepts in favor of focusing on sealing the deal on his project.

 _"You'll do great, no doubt," a soft sound of encouragement brushes against the side of Steven's face,_ and he opens his mouth to say something, to ask about the 'incident' but the semblance has already dematerialised... as expected.

Turns out dupe-Andrew was right, it had been a harrowing three hours trying to nail down the details, making bargains, and all that jazz but the meeting went about as great as can be expected. Production has been set to start next month, which is actually a littler sooner than Steven had anticipated but he's not about to complain. Plus, there's a silver lining to having to sit through such a long meeting. It's basically the end of his workday already, which means Steven can go straight home and get some much-needed rest.

The instant he makes it back to his desk, he starts haphazardly sweeping the rest of his belongings on his desk into his bag, half-wondering when false-andrew would show up to congratulate him. Laurel's not at her workstation but she hasn't left for the day, if the half-eaten plate of apple pie by her keyboard is any indication. When he's ready to leave, Steven glances around the room, silently hoping that the apparition has made itself known but there's no sign of it anywhere at all. 

"Of course not," Steven mumbles to himself. It only shows up when bad things happen, or when he needs a kick in his rear. With nothing else holding him back, Steven reluctantly begins his journey home.

The evening rush is every bit as bad as its early morning counterpart, it didn't take long for Steven to learn that this drags on well into the night. New York really did earn its pinpoint-accurate title of 'The City That Never Sleeps'. There are some nights where Steven joins it, where he sits leaning against the window, watching lights flicker and fly, wondering what everyone else in the world is up to...

...wondering if he's headed down the right path.

There's a cold, jittery bug sitting at the pit of Steven's stomach, his grip on the strap of his backpack tighten without a second thought. Is his mind trying to tell him something? It's definitely trying to convince him that he misses Andrew but that's something he already knew. It's been almost half a week since he texted Andrew, discounting the contextually empty messages about 'being busy', it would be almost an entire week.

It certainly felt longer than that.

A loud, piercing screech pulls Steven out of his trance state. His head instinctively turns to his right where the source of the sound is, and the sight that greets him causes him to freeze up on the spot. A bad move, considering that the aforementioned sight is a car speeding in his direction. Fortunately, the vehicle's advance is being fought against and the silver sedan manages to come to a complete stop right as the bumper lightly taps the side of Steven's leg.

There's a deafening ringing in his ears brought about by the rush of blood, his heart pounds so violently that it threatens to rip itself out of his chest. The internal seismic waves reverberate through his bones, sending chills all the way down to his fingertips. Before him, the driver flails about to undo their seatbelt and exit the vehicle, but before anything else can happen, something blocks Steven's view. His back seizes up as his eyes quickly adjust to the familiar sight.

_"That was too close!" Andrew's eyes are dark like a stormy ocean, they dart about as he examines Steven, and the flashes of light they occasionally catch are akin to signs of impending thunder. The expression on his face jumps from scared to relieved to angry in a matter of seconds, hovering around at fury for a little while before withering down to sadness, which Steven deems to be much more difficult to look at. "You need to be more careful, Steven..."_

Steven open his mouth and tries to say something, anything... but his throat has gone so dry that it begins to sting. His vision blurs out completely, he can hear faint noises resembling speech (parts of it sounds like his own voice) but is unable to decipher any of it. A phantom force moves his limbs for him, colors shift and fade, and like a puppet on strings, Steven has no choice but to go with the flow. Somehow he feels... grateful, for being allowed to relinquish control of his own body for even a short moment. When the dust eventually settles, Steven finds himself standing in the relative safety of the sidewalk just five feet away from where he almost died.

The Andrew-like projection from his mind is nowhere to be found.

The rest of his journey goes without any incident, which is to be expected given that he's on high alert the entire time. And by the point he's made it through his front door, Steven feels far more exhausted than he has any business feeling, especially from a simple trip back home from work. Every single muscle in his body is tensed up and aching, god, he just wants- no, _needs_ to hear Andrew's voice again, just to calm himself down. Though both he and his deeper, darker thoughts know that Andrew's voice will do more than just that to him.

 _"You made it." Right on cue, Andrew rejoices in a mildly more cheerful cadence than his usual monotone. Then he simply watches silently with the gentlest smile on his face as Steven unloads all his gear, as if nothing had happened between now and his last appearance at the office. As if Steven didn't almost lose his life by the way of a speeding car._ The surliest voice inside his head wonders if the real Andrew went through anything like this after _his_ accident.

Without warning, Steven's body involuntarily flinches from reliving that one moment where Andrew almost fell trying to stand up from his couch. Although he would never admit it out loud, he has been haunted by various Andrew-related hypotheticals in his sleep for quite sometime, the thought of what could have happened if he wasn't there to catch Andrew, or if he didn't react in time.

...or what could have been if he never left LA in the first place.

Bit despite everything that he's been put through, Steven still maintains that he doesn't regret coming to New York, he does genuinely love this city and the life he lives here. But a growing part of him resents having to leave his old life behind for this shiny new one.

" _You're probably starving," Andrew pipes up, his words popping Steven's pondering like a needle to a balloon. "I would cook for you but..." Andrew's clearly refering to the thumb drive incident ealrlier but doesn't finish his sentence_ , and Steven refuses to finish it for him, as if saying it out loud would uncover the rug and everything that they- _he_ swept under it.

Right now, Steven wants nothing more than to hold on to this delusion just a little longer and pretend that it's all real, but he's well aware that it's unhealthy (and perhaps a little mad). He responds with a mere nod and proceeds to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. He can feel a pair of eyes cast onto his back as he cuts across the living room but doesn't look back, out of a perfectly rational fear of finding nothing there.

Steven opens the fridge door and pulls out a box to reheat, silently thanking his past self for picking up meal prep from his LA roommate. While he far prefers his food to be freshly prepared, the time constrains on his busy life makes this a much more practical alternative.

Usually, he would put in a little more effort and reheat his food in a pan instead of with the microwave (he swears he's not fancy), but he doesn't think that at this moment he can even muster up enough energy to pick up a pan. To say nothing of having to do the actual reheating and the cleanup that would be involved afterwards. 

"I miss you," the words leave his mouth the moment he let his guard down. But then he realizes that it doesn't matter even if he kept his mouth shut, the illusion and his thoughts live in the same plane of existence. _Andrew chuckles and the sound is akin to a warm fire in the middle of a blizzard. He feel the topmost layer of his skin get toasty but his insides are still icy with nerves,_ making him into some sort of half-cooked dish not dissimilar to how his dinner will likely turn out.

" _I'm just one phone call away," Andrew points out unhelpfully, "or you could text me if you rather not talk." Maybe it's just his mind playing tricks on his mind-tricks but Steven swears he sees a foggy sadness clouding Andrew's eyes_. Steven takes a deep breath to centre himself and when he exhales he reflexively shudders. " _Cold?"_

Steven looks up in surprise, _Andrew's face is somber but sympathetic. They both recognise that he's giving Steven an out, because they **both know** that Steven isn't up for talking about just how scared he is about, well, everything._

"Yeah, cold..." is all he can manage.

The timer on the microwave goes off untimely in the middle of a silence, displacing the words Steven is scrambling to form, with a reminder that his stomach has been growling away for the last half-hour. Mechanically, he remove his dinner from the microwave and places it on the tiny dinning table, before grabbing cutlery.

He's two spoonful into his dinner when the tension in the room becomes too much to tolerate. _Andrew has been uncomfortably watching him the entire time, teethering on the edge of saying something important._

"What do I even say to you? I don't even know h-how... to talk to you anymore."

 _"Just do what you're doing now... and you'll be golden," Andrew flashes his signature lopsided grin._ Steven snorts condescendingly, crosses his arms and pouts at the seemingly ignorant apparition

"But you're not real," Steven challenges, fuelled by an uncharacteristic need to be right.

" _I feel real enough to me, and isn't that all that matters?" Andrew laughs and winks_. The coiled up tension and fear in Steven is melding into frustration. Maybe if this delusion could actually decide on what it _wants_ to be, it would greatly help him reestablish some semblance of stability. Even though his unstable state is what's causing the projection to behave the way it does.

" _Is_ it?" Steven asks, trying to put it out in a flat sarcastic tone but it just sounds sad and hurt. He then shoots up from his seat and lets out a grumble. Sham-Andrew's playful demeanor begins to falter a little at that. "Do I... love you?" Steven surprises himself with the sudden courage that bloomed behind those words.

 _The smile on Andrew's face lags behind the drooping of his eyes and falling of his shoulders but as it vanishes from his expression, it takes_ all the air in the room with it. The pointed ticking of the wall clock punctuates every passing second of silence with acute unease. For the very first time, Steven genuinely wants the illusion to actually say something, but it simply doesn't.

"Yeah, I know..." Steven drops back down onto the chair, the metal feet screeches against the tiled floor and the sound runs straight up his spine. When he looks back up from the table, imaginary-Andrew has already disappeared but Steven continues speaking, because he himself is the one who needs to hear it the most, "...you can't answer that for me. I'm the only one who can."

All this time while Steven is prodding away at what he thinks Andrew could be, the real being is drifting further and further away from him. And if he doesn't do something about the widening chasm, this mirage _will_ be all that he has left.

While the bowl of food before him is still warm, in his mind it has already gone too cold, and all he wants to do now is to lie down in the thick darkness and sleep for an unhealthy amount of time. Not having the energy to properly put the food away, Steven places the lid back onto the container. Maybe he'll wake up later starving and he can force himself to eat, but for now he retreats to his room, dragging behind him the weight of everything he has left unsaid.


End file.
